A Shining Falsehood
by Tifaching
Summary: In Hell, things are never what they seem.   Heaven's attempt to rescue Dean from the pit hits a few snags.


_This fic was written for the prompt: a character stuck in a time loop, for the SPN last author standing competition on Live Journal. It was my first (and only) time writing Castiel. Reviews, including concrit are very welcome._

The host is gathered like a sea of light on the plains above the gate. Rumors have been swirling for eons and thoughts run through the gathering like schoolgirls' whispers. The truth is known by few and those few give the orders that send the garrison plummeting through the portal to Lucifer's kingdom.

Castiel is among the angels that rocket into the pit. He is not at the head of his regiment but closer to the rear guard and he wonders at, but doesn't question, his placement. He knows the soul for whom they are searching, has had it in his charge since before life first sparked within. The decision that allowed it to be sent to hell in the first place mystifies him, but he grasps the urgent need to get it out. Dean Winchester was a righteous man and it is imperative he be retrieved before he destroys the first seal.

The angels descend, lighting the way before them like a supernova. Their wings produce a maelstrom but the creatures of darkness don't flee from their brilliance, hold their ground against the buffeting winds. Heaven's forces charge onward, ever descending, the soul they are searching for emblazoned into their minds. The battle is slow and losses are heavy on both sides. The warriors of God are mighty but their adversary is legion and by the time the soul is within reach, radiance pulsating within each angel's breast, only a few are left to carry out their mission. Castiel is one of those few and he can _feel _the soul, strong and bright and yearning, just like it's always been and triumph surges in him as he reaches out to grasp it. Before his fingers can close, its luminescence ripples like he's viewing it through water and…..

The host is gathered like a sea of light on the plains above the gate. Castiel looks around, perplexed, but none of his brothers seem to notice that, after years of battle, they are right back where they started. Fallen warriors stand side by side with those who fought their way through to the end. Stand at_ his_ side. He who had victory snatched, somehow, from his very hand. The soul is infused once again into each of them so all can track it, know it, one alone, shining like a beacon amongst billions sullied by the pit. The orders are given, the urgency made clear and once more, hell is under siege. Castiel does not stay in his place this time. He moves closer to the front, ignoring the looks of his higher ranking brethren. Maybe if he reaches his destination more quickly, gives hell less time to prepare, the outcome will be different. It doesn't occur to him that hell has had more than enough time to prepare for this rescue attempt.

Castiel is again among the handful of angels who reach the depths of the pit to claim their prize. This time he holds himself back, concentrates his power instead of immediately approaching the incandescence in front of him. When he is bursting with grace, unable to hold an iota more of the Lord's power, he surges forward only to have the soul shimmer away. The last thing he hears is mocking laughter.

The host is gathered like a sea of light on the plains above the gate. This time Castiel approaches Zachariah with his concerns, hoping that the leader of this foray will have some insight into the loop their forces seem to have been thrown into. Zachariah gives Castiel a concerned look and confers with some of the brethren. When he returns, he places a hand on Castiel's shoulder, asks if he is sure that this mission is one he is fit for. None of the other angels have noticed anything amiss. Castiel remains calm in spite of the uncertainty he feels. He _knows_ this soul- cannot be left out of this mission. Zachariah agrees to let him go and places a fingertip on his forehead to transfer the image of the soul into his mind. Castiel wants to protest it isn't necessary, he has always carried it within, but he remains silent.

When he reaches his objective he pauses, studying the soul, trying to perceive the trap. This time the mocking laughter is followed by words.

"Figured it out have you?"The tone is light, the singsong cadence mocking. "It's quite a conundrum. To break the loop you have to reach him, but to reach him you have to break the loop. I can't believe you angels have the audacity to try and kidnap my newest brother from our father's realm."

"_Your_ father_?_ _My_ father wishes for this soul to be returned to life, and that is what will come to pass. _Your _father has begotten nothing but evil, nothing but lies and I _will_ carry out my mission." He concentrates, perceives a weakness in the atmosphere around the soul and centers his attempt there.

The host is gathered like a sea of light on the plains above the gate. Castiel stares at the portal. _Father of lies._ He takes his place in the ranks, ready to move forward as soon as the charge begins. Zachariah pushes the soul into each consciousness and Castiel immediately forces it to the background. He doesn't need it, has never needed it.

Castiel stands in front of the glowing soul, pretends to study it, but his attention is elsewhere. He casts his mind wide, feeling for what _he_ knows to be real and there it is. Guilty, angry, afraid and oh so dim, but he _knows. _He can't believe he was ever fooled by the shining falsehood before him and he grasps his objective, burning away the filth that surrounds it and carrying it into the light.

What remains of the host is gathered on the plains above the gate. Castiel solemnly catalogues their losses, cradling the reason for them in his arms, before leaving to complete his mission.


End file.
